


Negative Reinforcement

by saisis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Asshole Spanking, Captivity, Collars, Extra Treat, M/M, Mild Pet Play, Painful Sex, Predicament Bondage, Rough Sex, Sex Slave, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, Werewolf, catboy, fucktoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisis/pseuds/saisis
Summary: As a craftsman, Ned understands the importance of keeping his working tools in order. That goes for Sasha, too.Ned figures he really should give his catboy a break after last night’s punishment. But that tight little ass is as enticing as ever, and Ned isn’t in the habit of denying himself what he wants—at least not where his kitten is concerned.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Werewolf/Catboy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 344
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Negative Reinforcement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowsapiens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Werewolf's New Plaything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19445548) by [shadowsapiens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/pseuds/shadowsapiens). 



> Thank you for letting me have fun with these two, I hope you have a great exchange! 💜💜💜

“You just never learn, do you kitten?”

Ned’s grip is harsh, but his voice is fond as he pushes Sasha through the door to his cabin. Sasha stumbles over the threshold, tripping on the hem of his coat ( _Ned’s_ coat) and falling to the floor. It’s any wonder he made it more than a mile in that thing, given that the heavy fabric drowns him completely. But Sasha’s own clothes are long gone, and Ned’s coat—oversized as it is—was likely preferable to freezing to death.

“This is what—the third time you’ve tried to escape?” Ned asks, closing the door against the cold winter night.

Sasha glares at Ned from his spot on the floor, his eyes narrowed and his ears pressed flat against his skull. Oh yeah, he looks _pissed_. Ned’s surprised he isn’t baring his teeth and preparing to pounce. Credit where credit’s due: the kid has some sense about him after all.

“I mean don’t get me wrong,” Ned says, circling Sasha to approach the fireplace, “it’s not like I don’t enjoy punishing you. But I could probably do without a hike into the woods in the middle of the night.” Ned crouches to add fresh logs to the smouldering embers in the fireplace. He’d spent a couple of candlemarks hunting Sasha, almost as far as Wintercrest. The fire has all but reduced to ash in that time, and Ned knows Sasha must be freezing, even if he stubbornly refuses to show it. “What’s say next time we skip the running away part, and just get straight to the punishment?” Ned asks, shooting a grin over his shoulder.

Sasha’s ears twitch, righteous indignation writ into every line of his body. Ned chuckles to himself as the fire finally catches, crackling back to life. Satisfied, Ned straightens and crosses the room to sink into his armchair with a heavy sigh.

“So,” Ned says, after a pause. “What are we going to do about this?”

Sasha’s eyes widen, darting to all the potential escape routes—the door, the boarded up windows—before settling back on Ned. A dozen emotions flitter across his face within seconds, everything from trepidation to panic, until he finally adopts an expression of utter helplessness. Ned would find it comical if it didn’t make his dick so hard.

“Well?” Ned prompts.

Sasha’s eyes turn downcast. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. The apology sounds wooden and hollow, like it’s been dredged unwillingly from deep inside him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I believe you.” Ned’s face breaks out into a grin, the kind that shows all of his teeth. “And I don’t think you’re sorry just yet. But you will be.”

Sasha’s big blue eyes grow wide with fear. They flicker to the door again, but it’s futile.

They both know no one’s coming to rescue him.

“How about you start by returning my coat back from where you got it?” Ned says.

Sasha’s face colours. “But—”

“But?”

Sasha falters, but Ned can infer the reason for his objection. It’s cute that after all this time, Sasha still clings desperately to every last shred of modesty. Ned’s taken him more times than he can recall, has had him in every imaginable position, and yet Sasha still hesitates every time Ned has him remove his clothes. It’s adorable, really.

“Come on kitten, don’t be shy. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Sasha colours further, his hands trembling as he starts unfastening Ned’s coat. Sure enough, every button undone reveals pale skin and lithe muscle, until finally, Sasha stands naked in the middle of Ned’s living room.

“That’s better,” Ned appraises. “Now be a good kitten and hang that up,” he adds, gesturing to the coat rack.

Humiliated, Sasha stoops to bundle Ned’s huge coat in his arms, giving Ned a nice view of his ass in the process. Without the coat, Ned can see Sasha’s feet are cut and bleeding, can see the scratches that crisscross his legs all the way up to his knees. He walks gingerly, wincing with every step. _Good_ , Ned thinks. He’d locked away Sasha’s boots—his last item of clothing—in an attempt to deter him from escaping. And now, seeing how fearful Sasha is, he can’t say he’s too unhappy the attempt was unsuccessful.

“On your knees,” Ned says casually, nodding at the direbear-skin rug. For one perfect moment, Sasha’s face lights up with fury, and Ned thinks he’s going to make another run for it there and then. But then the reality of his situation sinks in and his face falls into an expression of tired resignation, his ears drooping and his shoulders slumping.

“There’s a good kitten,” Ned says again, loving the way Sasha’s cheeks burn with humiliation as he complies with Ned’s order. He sinks down to his knees but keeps his eyes defiantly raised, holding Ned’s gaze with his chin held stubbornly high.

Ned smiles. This is going to be more fun than he expected.

“I think you can do better than that,” Ned says, slowly rising from the chair. He circles Sasha, letting the tension mount between them. Suddenly, without warning, he grabs Sasha by the scruff of the neck and forces him facedown onto the rug, instantly immobilising him.

“That’s better, don’t you think?” Ned whispers, kneeling beside Sasha. Even with Ned’s heavy hand on his neck, Sasha struggles, striking out with his arms and trying to twist out of Ned’s grasp.

Ned laughs. “Oh no, we can’t have that can we?” He grabs both of Sasha’s skinny wrists in one hand, holding them to the small of his back. With his other hand, he releases Sasha’s neck and grabs his tail, yanking on it firmly and forcing a yelp out of Sasha’s throat.

“That hurt, does it?” Ned asks. It’s rhetorical, of course. Ned has always known that Sasha’s tail is extremely sensitive, always twitching out of Ned’s grasp whenever he makes a grab for it. It makes what he has planned even more exciting.

“The way I see it Snowflake, is that you’re only making this more difficult for yourself,” Ned says. He grabs the base of Sasha’s tail and pulls until Sasha’s spine is forced into a deep arch. Then, he loops Sasha’s tail around his wrists, pulling the tip through the middle to make a crude knot. The overall effect is better than he’d hoped for: Sasha’s shoulders are forced back, so far it must be painful. But at the same time, if he relaxes his shoulders, he’ll tug on his tail. Like this, he’s caught in a perpetual state of discomfort. And the best part? Sasha’s ass is forced high into the air, exposed and vulnerable to anything that Ned might like to do to it.

“There you go, that should keep you out of trouble.”

Sasha whimpers as he tests the strength of the knot, trying to pull is wrists free and wincing he tugs on his tail. After a moment of struggling, he seems to resign himself to the fact that he’s not going to be able to break free anytime soon, and his best option—hell, his _only_ option—is to see Ned’s punishment through until the end.

Good.

“Now, last time you tried to escape, I gave you twenty strikes.” Ned runs a hand over Sasha’s ass as he talks. It’s a possessive gesture, and Sasha knows it. “So I think it’s only fair that we raise it to thirty this time, hm?”

Sasha mumbles something, but it’s muffled by the rug.

“Didn’t catch that, sorry?”

“I said ‘go fuck yourself’.”

Ned barks out a laugh, genuinely surprised. So much for meek acceptance. Without warning, he delivers an open-handed strike to the curve of Sasha’s ass. The force of the blow is so powerful, Sasha’s whole body jolts forward. Poor kid’s going to have rugburn on his face if they keep this up.

“That one didn’t count,” Ned says, pinching the place where he’d struck Sasha. “And you might want to watch your mouth, or else I’m going to have to come up with something real creative to gag you with.”

Sasha doesn’t comment this time. Wise choice.

“Now you’re going to count them out for me, like a good boy. Ready?”

Ned doesn’t wait for Sasha’s approval before he brings his hand down in a wide arc, striking the same place he’d hit last time. Sasha jolts again, crying out with the force of the blow, his pain exacerbated by the strain he’s putting on his tail.

“Are you going to count? Or are we going to be stuck here all night?”

At first, Ned thinks that Sasha’s going to show him defiance here as well. But after a few seconds, Ned hears a pitiful little _one_ mumbled from the general direction of the rug, and decides to show him mercy by not repeating the strike.

“You’re going to have to do a bit better than that,” Ned says, bringing down his hand again. This time, Sasha’s whimper is followed by a much louder _two_ , and Ned hums his satisfaction before delivering blow three in the exact same spot.

Blows four through eight happen in quick succession. Ned alternates between each cheek, delivering strikes so rapidly Sasha barely has a chance to count them out. By the time he makes it to ten, Sasha’s already sniffling—a tell-tale sign that he’s holding back tears.

“How are you hanging in there, kitten?” Ned asks. He rubs his hand over Sasha’s abused skin, pinching it between his fingers just to hear him whimper. God, that will never not be hot. “Already starting to regret your little outing into the forest?”

“Yes,” comes a pitiful whine from the rug. The sound makes Ned’s dick throb.

“So you won’t be running off again any time soon, will you?”

Sasha takes so long to reply that Ned delivers another blow, right to the sensitive skin where his thigh meets his ass. Sasha chokes out an _eleven_ followed immediately by a _no_ , and Ned takes it as the go-ahead to deliver strikes twelve through sixteen.

“There you go,” Ned says, rubbing circles into his skin after the sixteenth strike. Sasha’s skin—normally so pale and delicate—has turned an appealing shade of red, and is blazing hot to the touch. Poor kitten won’t be able to sit for a week. “Just four more to go.”

“But—”

Ned delivers another strike and Sasha chokes on the rest of his sentence, his whole body starting to tremble. He hastily gasps out the count before saying, “I thought you said there would be thirty this time?”

“There will be,” Ned says, bringing his hand down again. He waits until he hears _eighteen_ before continuing. “But I have other ideas on where to give you your last ten strikes.”

Before Sasha can reply, Ned delivers the last two blows, just seconds apart. Sasha can’t hold back a cry as Ned strikes his abused ass, and the implications of Ned’s statement undoubtedly begin to sink in.

“Wait—”

Sasha’s twists on the rug to face Ned, his big blue eyes wide with fear.

“Yes?” Ned asks with all the patience in the world. He can see the indecision warring on Sasha’s pretty face, caught between wanting to beg for mercy, and wanting to hold onto what’s left of his dignity.

Something about Ned’s expression must steel Sasha’s resolve. His eyes turn hard and defiant once more, his ears flattening against his skull. “Never mind,” he says, infusing the simple statement with so much bitterness that it sounds like a curse.

“Suit yourself,” Ned says. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s not like Ned would have listened to him, anyway. “Face down,” he orders.

Sasha’s clearly reluctant to take his eyes off Ned, but he complies. Ned takes a moment to admire Sasha’s abused ass, groping the heated flesh and leaving long scratches over the sensitive skin. Sasha manages to hold back his whimpers this time, and well. We can’t have that, can we?

“Hold yourself open for me.”

Sasha twists around to face him, wincing when the movement forces him to tug on his tail. “What?”

“You heard.”

Whatever Sasha was expecting, it somehow wasn’t _this_. A look of intense loathing crosses Sasha’s face, and Ned can’t help himself. He presses the heel of his palm to his erection, rubbing himself through his trousers to release some of the ache. Sasha tracks the movement, his expression morphing into one of pure disgust.

“Take your time, I’ve got all night,” Ned says, rubbing himself rather pointedly.

Sasha flushes darker as Ned continues to touch himself. Ned savours Sasha’s expression of open despair until slowly, with untold reluctance, Sasha reaches back with his bound hands to spread himself open, giving Ned a good view of his hole

Ned let’s out a—well, a _wolf whistle._ God, if that isn’t a pretty sight. Sasha’s hole is tight and pink, the muscles twitching under Ned’s scrutiny. Ned never gets tired of this, never gets tired of seeing Sasha spread open and vulnerable, completely at Ned’s mercy. And the fact that he’s the one holding himself in this position, however unwillingly, only makes it that much sweeter.

“Now you’re going to count these out, remember?” Ned says.

Sasha doesn’t say anything. Considering what’s likely to be going through his mind at the moment, it’s probably for the best.

“Ready?”

This time, Ned actually does wait for Sasha to nod, however minutely. Ned raises his arm, holding it high in the air and letting the tension build. Sasha’s whole body is coiled tight, every muscle tensed in anticipation. Ned waits until he begins to tremble, then brings his hand down, right over Sasha’s exposed hole.

Sasha _howls_.

Ned’s punished him like this before, but has never seen him react so strongly, so early. And this time Ned’s promised him _ten_.

“You’ve got to count them out, kitten.”

Sasha’s body is trembling—with either pain or fury or both—and several seconds tick by before he’s able to finally choke out the word.

“One.”

“Good boy,” Ned says, then brings down his hand again.

This time, Sasha seems to have braced himself for it, and the sound that escapes is a whimper. It sounds muffled though, as if he’s biting down on his own tongue.

“Two,” Sasha finally spits out.

“There you go, that’s not so hard is it?”

Ned doesn’t wait for Sasha to respond before delivering the next three blows in quick succession, barely waiting for Sasha to count them out before moving onto the next one.

But it’s the sixth blow that finally pushes Sasha over the edge.

“Wait—please stop!”

Sasha’s holding his hands over his ass, protecting himself. His voice sounds thick with unshed tears, his whole body trembling. If Sasha’s been reduced to _begging_ of all things, the pain must really be getting to him. Ned should push him this far more often.

Ned rubs his hand over Sasha’s ass, but doesn’t strike him again. By the time Sasha gets his breathing under control, his voice is shaking.

“Can you—can we just take a break for a second?”

Ned frowns, considering. This is supposed to be a punishment, and if Sasha’s in pain then it’s working. But hey, a little break never hurt anyone—it’s not like Ned’s a monster. And his palm _is_ starting to sting a little.

“Sure,” Ned says and Sasha’s body sags with relief.

As Sasha catches his breath, Ned figures he might as well get some relief for himself. His cock has been achingly hard ever since Sasha shrugged off his coat, and while Ned is generally a patient man, that patience can only stretch so far. Ned undoes his belt and unzips his trousers, the metallic sound impossibly loud in the quiet cabin.

Sasha ears twitch. He twists his body around, heedless of the strain he’s putting on his tail. “What are you doing?”

“Worry about yourself, kitten,” he says. Ned reaches into his trousers and gives himself a firm squeeze, enjoying the way Sasha’s eyes track the movement with equal measures of fear and panic.

“You’re not going to—”

Poor thing can barely even finish the sentence. He looks like he’s about to faint.

“Well I wasn’t going to. But since this is taking so long.”

“We can keep going!” Sasha says hastily. He twists back around and spreads his cheeks eagerly. It would look almost inviting in any other context and fuck—it still does, actually. “I’m ready for it,” comes the muffled assurance.

Ned sighs heavily. He gives himself one last squeeze before tucking himself away in his trousers. Truthfully, he wasn’t going to fuck Sasha tonight—that kind of treatment after this punishment could result in an injury that would have Sasha out of commission for _days_ , and Ned wasn’t about to chance that. Sasha doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Since you’re so eager,” Ned says, sounding put upon. Ned takes a moment to run his thumb over Sasha’s abused hole, making him flinch. Despite the pain, Sasha still holds himself open, not wanting to disobey him. How sweet. Ned raises his hand, but suddenly has another idea.

Ned’s belt is lying discarded on the rug. And Sasha _does_ need to be taught a lesson.

“Ready, kitten?”

Ned waits for the muffled _yes_ before picking up the belt, looping it in half. He raises it over his head and says—

“Just remember, you earned this.”

Sasha makes a confused noise but before he can reply, Ned swings the belt down and delivers a blow right over Sasha’s abused hole. Sasha _shrieks_ , the sound utterly ear-splitting, making Ned wince.

Immediately, Sasha starts babbling, begging, pleading, but Ned grabs him by the scruff of his neck and says, “Count, kitten.”

Sasha chokes on a sob, but finally manages to get out the word out. “Seven.”

“Very good,” Ned says, easing back into position once more. “And what comes next?”

Ned brings the belt down over his hole again.

“Eight!” Sasha screams. By now his hole is red and puffy, and Ned already knows that there will be bruises there tomorrow. Sasha sounds like he can barely take any more, but a promise is a promise, and Ned’s not about to go back on his word now.

Sasha braces himself for the ninth blow, but it still knocks the breath out of him. He barely manages to choke out the count before Ned’s raising the belt once more.

“Last one. But you have to ask for it. Nicely,” Ned adds.

Sasha shudders. His gripping his ass so hard his knuckles have gone white, and Ned can see ten perfect points where his nails have broken the skin. It’s clearly a struggle for him to get his breathing under control, and it takes several false starts before he’s able to form the single word.

“P”—he hiccups—“Please.”

Well, that could definitely do with some work. But Ned’s not about to push right now.

“You got it,” Ned says simply, and brings the belt down a final time on Sasha’s red and abused hole. Sasha lets out a cry, the sound torn from his throat, and collapses on his side, curling in on himself as best as he can. 

“Hold on a second, I’m not done with you just yet,” Ned says, undoing his trousers.

Sasha’s eyes widen. “But you said—”

“I said I wouldn’t fuck you,” Ned says, pulling his dick out. “But your cute little noises have got me all worked up, so why don’t you roll over again and show me that hole of yours?”

Sasha stares up at him with equal parts fear and disbelief, completely stunned and too frightened to move. With his patience running thin, Ned grabs Sasha by the nape of his neck and forces his facedown onto the rug.

“That’s better. Now hold yourself open again.”

With shaking hands, Sasha reaches back to spread his cheeks. Even in the dim firelight, Sasha’s ass is coloured a deep red, and his hole looks puffy and painful. Ned’s dick leaks as he thinks of fucking into that tight heat with no regard for his pain, no thoughts of anything except for how good it would feel to impale Sasha on his cock and fuck him until he can’t walk straight.

But Ned’s toy is only useful to him for as long as he’s able to be used. With that in mind, Ned contents himself with short, quick strokes, bringing himself off by his own hand. It’s been a long time since he’s come from his own touch; ever since he ran into Sasha—or rather, Sasha ran into him—his kitten has been satisfying his every need. But with Sasha spread open and exposed, and the evidence of Ned’s handiwork laid out before him, it’s easy for Ned to bring himself off.

“You should see yourself, Snowflake. All marked up, all mine. Holding yourself open for me like you’re begging for my cock.”

Sasha makes a noise of protest, but it doesn’t matter; the thought alone is enough to push Ned over the edge. He comes with a low groan, painting Sasha’s ass and the backs of his thighs with come. Sasha whimpers at the sensation, edging away from Ned as best he can in his position. In retaliation, Ned rubs some of his come over Sasha’s hole, irritating the sensitive skin and laughing when it makes Sasha squirm.

Ned sighs, satisfied. “What am I going to do with you?”

Sasha twists to face Ned, eyeing him warily, clearly understanding the question is a trap. “You could untie me?” he asks, and the hopeful note in his voice almost makes Ned laugh.

“I trusted you not to sneak out at night, and you ended up doing just that. It’s going to be a long while before I trust you again. No,” Ned says rising to his feet, “I think I need something else to make sure you stay put.”

Ned heads into the bedroom, looking for something in particular. He could use the manacles to keep Sasha secure: they’ve served him well in the past. But Ned quite likes the image of Sasha bound by his own tail, likes the way it forces his back into an unnatural bow and ensures he’ll be uncomfortable all night, effectively extending his punishment.

No, Ned has something else in mind.

“I was saving this for a special occasion,” Ned says, returning to the living room. “But I figure now’s as good a time as any.”

Sasha physically recoils when he sees what’s in Ned’s hand, his ears darting back and a low hiss escaping his throat.

It’s a collar.

Not just any collar, but one made especially for Sasha. Simple black leather, Ned had cured, cut and dyed it himself. Ned also carries a loop of rope, something sturdy enough to keep him secure through the night.

“I had to guess the size myself,” Ned says, kneeling down to wrap the leather around Sasha’s slender throat. The effect of the dark leather against Sasha's pale skin is striking. “But I think I did an alright job,” he adds, bucking the collar.

Sasha fixes Ned with a glare of purest loathing. Ned has called Sasha all kinds of things—his kitten, his pet—but nothing demonstrates so thoroughly the extent to which he’s owned more than the collar around his throat. Ned threads the rope through the loop in the collar, tying the other end to the leg of the armchair. He’ll have to come up with something a bit more permanent later, but with the way Sasha’s bound, it’s not likely he’s going to be getting out of this anytime soon.

“Hold on a second,” Ned says, reconsidering. He tests the collar and feels there’s still a bit of give. Well that won’t do. Humming to himself, he unbuckles the collar and tightens it by one notch; not enough to constrict Sasha’s breathing, but enough to make him hyperaware of the constant pressure at his throat. 

“There, that’s better. Can’t have you running away again now, can we?” Ned says, carding a hand through Sasha’s hair. Sasha flinches away but his movement is restricted by rope. He coughs as the collar exerts pressure on his throat, looking thoroughly miserable.

Ned can only laugh. “’Night kitten,” he says, giving Sasha’s hair one last ruffle.

Sasha wisely chooses not to respond.

*

Ned wakes late the following morning. The winter sun is already high in the sky, and the frost on the windowpanes has long since melted. Ned runs a tired hand over his face, trying to recall why he’s so exhausted. It dawns on him slowly.

Sasha.

Sasha had made another bid for freedom last night. Sasha had needed to be tracked down into the woods, and dragged back by the scruff of his neck, kicking and screaming.

Sasha had needed to be punished.

Ned smiles, thinking about the catboy bound and helpless in the next room. Sasha’s spent his night sleeping on the floor, cruelly bound, and really, he’s probably learned his lesson by now. Still, Ned takes his time getting dressed, looking forward to a lazy morning, one that feels all too deserved after the events of last night.

Ned finally emerges from the bedroom to find Sasha—

“Right where I left you,” Ned says fondly. Sasha’s wrists are still bound with his own tail, the position putting an unnatural strain on his shoulders. He’s rolled onto his side at some point and is completely still, likely sleeping. It seems impossible that he could sleep in such a position, but given the way Ned wore him out last night, maybe it shouldn’t be too surprising. He doesn’t stir as Ned enters the room and begins to circle him slowly.

Ned lets out a low whistle as he comes up behind Sasha. Sasha’s ass is marred with bruises, purple blotches already forming from the top of his ass down to the backs of his thighs—and those are just the parts Ned can see. His ass is still covered in dry come, and there’s something deeply arousing about that; the fact that Sasha’s spent all night covered in Ned’s scent, thoroughly owned—as if the collar weren’t proof enough already.

“How about we get you cleaned up?” Ned asks. Sasha doesn’t respond, but that’s okay. It’s not like Ned’s ever needed Sasha’s active participation before.

Ned grabs a cloth—the remnants of an old flannel that didn’t survive the full moon—and wets it in the kitchen sink. He also grabs a jar of salve. It’s not the magical kind, just a blend of arnica ( _wolfsbane_ , Ned thinks dryly, _what a stupid name_ ), rosemary and lavender that he picked up from a travelling merchant.

With a heavy sigh, Ned settles down behind Sasha. It takes a bit of prodding, but Ned finally manoeuvres Sasha until he’s balanced on his knees, his face pressed into the rug. Like this, it’s easy to spread Sasha open to look at his hole.

“Christ, kitten,” Ned mutters.

Sasha’s hole is red and swollen, the welts from the belt showing up stark on his bruised skin. Ned digs his thumbs into the sensitive flesh of his ass, spreading him wider to see the way his hole reflexively twitches as it’s exposed to the chilly morning air.

Ned runs the damp cloth over Sasha’s hole, wiping away the mess from last night, and chuckles when Sasha lets out a low moan as he finally stirs.

“Good of you to join me,” Ned says, running the flannel over the backs of his thighs, aggravating the sensitive skin. Sasha hisses and tries to squirm out of Ned’s grasp, but it’s futile. “And here I thought you’d be thanking me for cleaning you up.”

Sasha mumbles something incoherent, but Ned choses to ignore him. “Now if I untie you, do you promise to behave yourself?”

Sasha makes an affirmative noise, but Ned’s not satisfied. He grabs Sasha’s hair and tugs _hard_ , forcing his back into a deeper arch and revealing the enticing line of his collared throat. “Speak up, Snowflake.”

“Yes, please, I promise—”

Ned loosens his grip and ruffles Sasha’s hair affectionately. “Good boy.” He leans over to untie the rope from the leg of the armchair, then pulls it through the loop of the collar. Sasha sags with relief, even though the mere fact he’s within Ned’s reach means he’s no more free than he was a minute ago.

“Now, let’s see what we can do about fixing you up,” Ned says.

“Wait—”

Sasha cuts himself off. From this angle, Ned can see he’s biting his lip.

“Yes kitten?” Ned says indulgently.

“I thought you were going to”—he swallows—“I thought you were going to untie my hands.”

Ned pretends to pause for a moment. “Hmm, no. Don’t recall saying that.” Sasha makes a helpless sound that goes straight to Ned’s dick. He gives himself a quick squeeze before reaching for the salve. “Besides, I kind of like you like this,” Ned adds.

Sasha tries to break free and Ned rewards him with an open-palmed smack to his bruised ass. Sasha yelps, but stills beneath Ned’s hand.

“Don’t make me punish you again,” Ned warns, opening the jar. The salve is thick and fragrant as Ned applies it to Sasha’s bruised skin, probably a little rougher than necessary. In the morning light, Ned can see that he’s broken the skin in a few places, blood pooling to the surface as he runs his hands the sensitive skin. Sasha makes a miserable sound as Ned finishes rubbing the salve into the backs of his thighs.

There’s only one thing left to do now.

“Hold yourself open for me,” Ned says.

Sasha twists to face Ned. God he looks even prettier when he’s scared. “No—it’s okay, you don’t have to, I’ll be fine—”

Without warning, Ned delivers another strike to Sasha’s ass, right over the same spot he’d hit last time. Sasha yelps and twists back around hastily, complying with Ned’s order without further complaint.

“God, kitten,” Ned says, running a thumb down Sasha’s cleft and over his hole. “You’re a mess.”

Sasha makes a meek noise that sounds a lot like _please_ , but Ned’s in no mood to stop toying with him, not yet. He scoops out some more salve, rubbing it over Sasha’s hole and coating the deep welts until they’re completely covered. With every pass over Sasha’s hole, Ned presses in a little deeper, testing the give. Sasha makes a wounded sound each time he does, and when Ned presses a finger in to the first knuckle, Sasha chokes on a cry.

“Please—it hurts.”

“Does it?” Ned asks mildly. This wasn’t part of the plan, but now Ned’s started fingering Sasha, he can’t seem to stop. Ned’s cock aches within the confines of his trousers, and he can’t help but think that Sasha—sensitive as he is right now—would feel incredible on his cock.

“I thought you said—”

“That was last night,” Ned says, forcing a second finger in alongside the first. His fingers are slippery with salve so the glide is smooth, but Sasha’s still clenching around him like he’s trying to force him out, and Ned wants more of that, wants to feel Sasha struggling to take his cock.

Ned finally withdraws his fingers and sits back, considering. As a craftsman, Ned understands the importance of keeping his working tools in order. That goes for Sasha, too. Ned figures he really should give him a break after last night’s punishment. But Sasha’s tight little ass is as enticing as ever, and Ned isn’t in the habit of denying himself what he wants—at least not where his kitten is concerned.

Besides, Ned’s intention was always to deter Sasha from escaping. And if this is what it takes? Well, never let it be said that Ned’s not willing to do what’s necessary to make a point.

Ned gives himself a final squeeze through his trousers, then fumbles with the belt. Sasha tenses when he hears Ned’s zipper, and Ned’s almost disappointed he can’t see the look of wide-eyed terror he knows is on Sasha’s pretty face right now. Ned slicks himself up with the leftover salve—not that it matters, there’s no way this isn’t going to be painful for Sasha—and lines himself up with Sasha’s red and puffy hole.

“Wait—” Sasha says, but Ned grabs him by the throat, silencing him. With his airway constricted, Sasha can only gasp for breath, all protests dying on his lips in an instant.

Ned chuckles darkly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says. Ned pulls Sasha’s body back against his own, with Sasha’s bound hands caught between them, then angles his hips forward and starts to press in.

Sasha always feels incredible, but this? This is something else. Sasha’s all but writhing on Ned’s cock, trying to force it out of his little body. Ned finally manages to press the head into Sasha’s tiny hole, and Sasha clenches around it so hard, Ned sees _white_. Ned grabs onto Sasha’s shoulders, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into his resisting body. From there, it’s just a matter of grinding up into Sasha, pressing deeper in small increments until Ned is fully sheathed inside his toy. Sasha lets out a gasp when Ned bottoms out, either from the pain of his tender ass against Ned’s thighs, or from the feeling of Ned’s cock buried deep inside him. Probably both.

“God,” Ned says, canting his hips a little deeper. “You never disappoint, do you kitten?” Ned runs a possessive hand over Sasha’s narrow chest and down his stomach, coming to rest on his soft cock. Ned gives it a few quick squeezes just to feel Sasha squirm, laughing when the catboy doesn’t respond to his touch.

“Not in the mood, are you?” Ned asks.

Sasha bites out a curse, but it doesn’t matter. Any pleasure Sasha derives from this is purely incidental. Sasha’s not a lover, he’s a toy—something for Ned to use at will, and Ned’s not about to concern himself with Sasha’s pleasure, not now.

“No matter,” Ned says, pushing Sasha forwards onto the rug. Like this, he can’t feel Sasha squirm against him, but the position gives him a nice view of Sasha’s abused hole, stretched wide around Ned’s cock. Every time they do this, it seems impossible that his tiny body can take it. But somehow, Sasha proves him wrong time and time again, his body reluctantly accepting the massive intrusion until it feels like Ned’s carved out a space for himself inside Sasha’s body—as if Sasha were _made_ for this.

Ned draws out slowly, watching Sasha’s hole stretch around the widest part of his cock, then drives in again with abandon. Sasha yelps, his body lurching forwards with the force of the thrust, and he can only whimper as Ned draws back out again.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Ned says. “You’ve taken my knot before, so I know you can take this.”

Ned thrusts back into that tight heat again, not even waiting for a reply before setting a gruelling pace. Sasha keeps trying to squirm out of his grasp, but with Ned’s hand at the nape of his neck and Sasha’s own hands bound behind his back, the catboy is helpless.

Sasha’s whimpering is uninhibited now, high-pitched cries torn from his throat with every thrust. But they’re all lost to the rush of blood in Ned’s ears as his pleasure builds, pooling low in his gut and spreading through his entire body. Sasha is still resisting him on every thrust, clenching reflexively around Ned’s cock even as Ned ploughs him mercilessly. It feels every bit as amazing as Ned thought it would—the glide of the salve intensifying his pleasure as Ned continues to slam into Sasha’s tight little body.

Finally, Ned can’t stave off his orgasm any more. He grabs Sasha and pulls him back against his chest, holding him tightly to his body. This position allows him to thrust even deeper, and Sasha cries out as Ned’s thrusts become erratic and he’s overcome by his orgasm. It seems to go on forever—the pleasure overwhelming, intensified by the way Sasha keeps clenching as he squirms on Ned’s cock. With a satisfied groan, Ned spills inside his fucktoy, holding him close and breathing in his scent. Sasha smells like sweat and fear, but he’s also covered in Ned’s own scent, and that thought shouldn’t be nearly as arousing as it is.

For a long time, the two of them sit like that on the rug—Ned on his knees and Sasha in his lap, still impaled on Ned’s softening cock. Sasha’s still squirming, the press of his sensitive skin to Ned’s hairy thighs seemingly intolerable. As temping as it is to keep his little cockwarmer on his lap for the rest of the morning, Ned has other things to tend to today. So he slowly eases his way out of Sasha, savouring all the little whimpers as he pulls out, and releases his arm from across Sasha’s chest. Sasha falls face-first on the rug, completely exhausted.

“Look at you,” Ned says, running a hand over Sasha’s tender ass. Sasha’s well-used hole is redder than ever, looking painful after being stretched open on Ned’s cock. Ned idly runs a finger down Sasha’s cleft, pressing in when he reaches his hole. Sasha hisses in pain, but Ned pays him no mind. “Still as tight as ever,” Ned says, enjoying the way Sasha’s hole twitches as Ned presses in deeper. When he withdraws, a thin line of come leaks out of Sasha’s hole and trails down his balls.

Fuck if that isn’t a pretty sight.

“Well done, kitten,” Ned says, swatting Sasha’s ass affectionately. Sasha lets out a pained groan, and it’s almost enough to make Ned feel bad. Almost. “How about you get yourself cleaned up?”

Ned reaches for Sasha’s wrists and begins to undo the knot of his tail. Sasha hisses when his tail is finally unknotted, then again when it brushes the sensitive skin of his hole. Sasha’s arms fall limply to his sides, and for a long time he lies facedown and helpless on the rug, unable to move as the feeling returns to his arms in a painful rush. Seeing Sasha so helpless makes Ned’s spent cock twitch, but he ignores it in favour of retrieving the salve and returning it to the kitchen.

For several long minutes, Sasha lies on the floor while Ned cleans up, eyeing him warily from his position on the rug. Ned busies himself in the kitchen, until he finally gives into the scrutiny.

“What’s the problem? You know where the outhouse is,” Ned says.

Sasha’s eyes widen, then narrow. He sits up, his eyes flickering between Ned and the back door, full of uncertainty. “You’re not coming with me?”

“Of course not. I figure you’ve learned your lesson by now. Right?”

Sasha’s hand jumps unconsciously to his throat, right where the collar sits. Cages and chains are all well and good, but there’s something to be said for the collar as a symbol of ownership. Judging by the look of dismay on Sasha’s face when his fingers brush the leather, Ned would be willing to bet that Sasha feels similarly.

“Well?” Ned presses. “Have you?”

“Yes,” Sasha says meekly, his eyes downcast.

Ned watches him slowly rise to his feet, unlatch the back door and slip outside, noting the way he walks gingerly on his cut feet. Ned peers out through the kitchen window and sure enough, his kitten is heading in the direction of the outhouse, just as instructed.

Ned smiles to himself, satisfied. It’s already late, so he should get started on breakfast. Besides, his pet’s got a big day ahead of him.

He’s going to need all the strength he can get.


End file.
